where every thread has been worked by an _artiste_. Looking
at this little gem across a room, the effect is that of a charming old
colour print, so tenderly are the lines of shading depicted. This is the
only picture of this class that I have seen for years as an absolutely
perfect specimen of the eighteenth-century silk pictures, though
doubtless many exist.

The discrepancy which is usually found is that, although the design and
outline is perfect, the faces and hands exquisitely painted, the
needlework part of the picture has been executed in a foolish,
inartistic manner, and no method of light and shade has been observed.
Some little time ago I published an article in one of the popular
monthly Magazines illustrating this same picture, and was afterwards
inundated with letters from correspondents from far and near sending
their pictures for valuation and--admiration! Not one of these pictures
was good, though there were varying degrees of _badness_. But in no
instance was the painted face crudely drawn or badly coloured.

The explanation is that just as the modern needlewoman goes to a
Needlework Depot and obtains pieces of embroidery already commenced and
the design of the whole drawn ready for completion, so these old needle
pictures were sold ready for embroidering, the outline of the trees
sketched in fine sepia lines, the distant landscape already painted, the
faces and hands of the figures charmingly coloured, in many instances by
first-class artists. When we remember that the eighteenth century was
_par excellence_ the great period of English portrait painting and
colour printing, we can understand that possibly really fine artists
were willing to paint these exquisite faces on fine silk and satin, just
as good artists of the present day often paint "pot-boilers" while
waiting for fame.

[Illustration: EMBROIDERED SILK PICTURE OF "THE LAST SUPPER."

Eighteenth Century.

(_S.K.M. Collection._)]

Angelica Kauffmann's style was often copied. Is it too much to believe
that some of these charming faces may have been from her hands? We know
that she painted furniture and china, therefore why not the faces of the
needlework pictures so nearly akin to her own work?

The eighteenth-century costume was particularly adapted to this pretty
work. We cannot imagine the voluminous robes of Queen Mary or Queen Anne
in needle-stitchery, but the soft, silky lawns of the Georgian periods,
the high-waisted bodices, the _